


To Have A Home

by ohmarqueliot



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: A Life in the Day, Anniversary, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 09:22:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16472858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmarqueliot/pseuds/ohmarqueliot
Summary: “What is this?” he asked again, staring up at him intensely. He suddenly felt a deep craving for their old lives, for the intimacy that they’d shared. They’d only had a fraction of that since they’d been hit with the memories from their missing lives, and, just like how things had been back in Fillory, they hadn’t bothered to define how things were now. They’d both had lives to get back to, kingdoms to rule and quests to complete and enemies to vanquish. Unlike in Fillory, it made him feel unsettled, but there had been more important things to worry about than his own insecurities.----After visiting his father, Quentin considers what home truly means to him. Eliot returns from Fillory early to organise a surprise for Quentin.





	To Have A Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for starbug1988 for Trick or Treat!

Raising his mug, Quentin waited until Eliot followed suit and then knocked their drinks together lightly. “To us.”

Eliot smiled softly, his eyes warm. “Happy anniversary, Quentin.”

It had been five years since they started the puzzle, and four since their relationship had changed. They’d agreed not to label it, not to over think it, to just _be_ , but them just being had seamlessly turned into them just _being_ together, and be damned if he wasn’t going to celebrate one of the most magical things in his life. He’d wanted to mark their first year together but he’d worried that Eliot would brush it off, that he’d count it as unimportant or too much, but when he’d woken on their first anniversary to a handful of wildflowers beside the bed and the smell of breakfast cooking from the other side of the cottage, he knew that Eliot felt the same.

This thing was real. This thing between them mattered.

Taking a long drink of the bitter ale, Quentin put the mug to the table in front of them and reached for Eliot’s hand once he’d done the same. Grabbing his shoulder with his other hand, he squeezed his fingers as he leaned in, smiling against his warm lips as he kissed him slowly. Eliot’s hand was a familiar weight on the back of his neck, his grip sure and strong as he held him close, and it was all too easy to melt into his touch. Fisting his hand in his shirt, Quentin tilted his head and parted his lips to deepen the kiss.

Sudden, roaring laughter brought Quentin back to himself, and he broke away from Eliot to see a group of villagers encouraging an apparently risqué tale out of one of the younger men in the group. Not for the first time, he considered springing for one of the rooms upstairs, but he knew that they wouldn’t have time if they were to get back to the cottage early enough to cook dinner. Arielle had kicked them out of the house for the day, sending them into the village with a shopping list that was mostly an excuse for them to have a bit of time to themselves. They’d found everything in the first hour, so they’d stopped by the inn to have a drink and were enjoying a little time with just the two of them… and all of the other patrons of the inn, but whatever.

Feeling warmth spread across his cheeks, he looked back to Eliot, surprised at the affection on his face when he brushed his hair back from his eyes. “Oh, Q. I’ll never get over the fact that you still blush like a school girl when you think you’re getting busted making out.”

Catching Eliot’s hand as it dropped, he twisted their fingers together, scooting a little closer on the bench seat until his thigh pressed firm against his under the table. “Actually,” he said, bring their joined hands up and letting his lips brush along his fingers, “I’m thinking about how I’m looking forward to getting a quiet moment with you later on tonight.”

The smile that slowly spread across his face as wicked as ever. “I bet you are.”

So much had changed for them in five years – they’d both changed, but he could still see the man he’d met on his first day at Brakebills in the light in his eyes and in the quickness of his wit. There was a softness there now, too, that he never would have expected but was so happy to have witnessed. He couldn’t have imagined either of them choosing this life, but it had given him more than he ever could have known to ask for.

It had given him this time with Eliot, to finally have the opportunity to take stock of his feelings outside of the manic complexity that was their original lives. It had given him Arielle, who was funny and intelligent and who had taken their tale in stride. Most importantly, it had given him Teddy, who was the light of his life. Having the chance to love and nurture and raise his son eclipsed everything else. Coming on two and a half now, he was an exhausting mix of energy and curiosity and fearlessness, and he loved him more than he had ever imagined he could love anything.

Looking at Eliot now, he couldn’t quite believe how lucky he was to have so much love around him, so much calm and excitement all wrapped up together and he told Eliot as much, letting their hands drop into his lap as he tripped over his words in an effort to get his point across. “I guess I’m just saying that I couldn’t think of a better life than being stuck here with you,” he said with a small smile.

Freeing his hand, Eliot wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, and Quentin closed his eyes to better enjoy the moment when he pressed his lips against his forehead. When he pulled back, there was a sparkle in his eye. “I feel the same way, Q, though I can’t say I feel as lucky to be stuck with what passes for alcohol here,” he said, picking up his ale and gesturing with it. Quentin’s laughter caught in his throat when he looked up to see a passing serving girl looking at them stonily, and he glanced sideways to see Eliot’s face a perfect picture of innocence. “It’s wonderful, really,” he said, raising his mug to drain the rest of his drink. “Mmm, delicious.”

Quentin shook his head at him in fond exasperation. He really was lucky. And happy – he couldn’t ever remember being so happy. Full with that feeling, he pulled Eliot close again, kissing him once more. “I love you, El,” he said, his lips brushing against his with every word, and he felt Eliot’s answering smile.

“I love you, too.”

Grinning, he leaned back and finishing his own drink. “Come on, let’s make a move before they decide they don’t want us back.”

Eliot snorted. “If they didn’t ban us after you got busted cheating at cards, I think we’ll be fine.”

“That was one time,” he said quickly. “And that time you got everyone drunk, caused a fight and then bailed midway through was so worse than that.”

“That’s a matter of opinion.”

The walk back to the cottage took the better part of an hour, but Quentin’s tiredness was forgotten at the sound of an excited shout not long after their home came into view. “Dada!” Teddy ran out to meet them and Quentin bent to catch him in his arms, lifting him up. “Papa,” he said, reaching out for Eliot the moment he was settled on Quentin’s hip, and the two of them exchanged a warm smile at their son’s indecisiveness.

“Hey kiddo,” Eliot said, rubbing at Teddy’s back and pressing a kiss to his head. “Did you miss your dads today?” Nodding, Teddy leaned back into Quentin, wrapping his arms in a stranglehold around his neck and he squeezed him a little tighter.

The smell of good food hit him the moment Eliot opened the door, and when he stepped inside he found Arielle stirring something in a pot above the fire. “What’s this?” he asked her with a smile, letting Eliot take Teddy to show him the wooden horse they’d bought for him while they were in the village. He could tell from the rich smell filling the cottage that it was a household favourite, a stew with a secret recipe that Arielle was still teasingly keeping from them, but Eliot had promised her earlier in the day that he’d cook for them when they returned home.

Arielle shrugged, balancing the spoon over the pot and crossing the room to kiss him quickly before taking the bag from his shoulder. Pulling out the loaf of bread that he’d bought, she placed it on the table ready for dinner. “Today is your day. You should enjoy it.”

Quentin glanced at Eliot and Teddy, smiling to see Teddy already engrossed with his new toy, taking it over to introduce it to its new friends: the otter and the bear that they’d gotten for him last time. Straightening up, Eliot came over to help him and Arielle unpack their purchases. “We’re going to have dinner as a family,” Arielle continued, “and then I’m going to take Teddy outside to look at the stars for a while.” She looked knowingly between the two of them. “Think you two can keep your hands to yourselves until then?”

Grinning, Eliot moved around the table and wrapped his arms around Quentin’s waist, pulling him close, and Quentin felt a deep thrill of affection as he pressed his face into his warm neck. “No promises.”

* * *

Adjusting the strap of his bag over his shoulder, Quentin closed the front gate behind him, not bothering to lock it. The security measures at Brakebills since magic had gone were a joke, and anyone determined to get in wouldn’t be hindered by a shoddy padlock. And what was there to keep hidden now, anyway? A regular school with some weird, dormant artefacts and a library with a penchant for witchcraft, mythology and languages? Hardly worth hiding.

Hopefully it would soon be a moot point. Eliot and Margo were in the process of moving the Fairies from their realm to their new land in Fillory, and then they would have the final key. The return of magic was so close that he could almost feel the vibration of it through his body. He knew that was just nerves and excitement, but that just made him more desperate to feel the real thing. After all of the things they’d done, all of the people they’d lost, all of the sacrifices they’d made, he almost couldn’t quite believe they were actually going to do it. Those sacrifices wouldn’t be in vain.

His conversation with his dad was still fresh in his mind. He’d dreaded going to see him but knew that he had to, knew that he had to look him in the eye and tell him that he was going to be the reason that his cancer might return. He’d carried that weight with him for weeks – not the knowledge that he was going to go through with it no matter what, but that there wasn’t even a choice. He had to do this. He had to do whatever was necessary to bring back magic.

He hadn’t expected his father’s acceptance, or his approval, but that he’d given it without hesitation lifted that weight a little.

His footsteps slowed as he approached the cottage. Brakebills and the cottage itself had been a variety of things for him. For the first time in his life he’d felt like he’d belonged somewhere. He’d found people who not only believed and understood his fantastical view of the world but shared it and practiced it. It had become home. He thought about the home that he’d just come from, his dad’s house in New Jersey where he’d grown up. The years before his mom had left had been the best, the three of them finding a balance that he and his dad just couldn’t quite manage on their own, but it had still been his home.

Neither of those places felt like home now, not really. The most ‘home’ he’d ever felt was in Fillory, but not the Fillory that he’d expected, not the one he’d read about and dreamed about. Home was so much more than the place where you lived.

He missed his home.

Stepping into the cottage, Quentin dropped his bag on the floor beside the door, looking around the common room. The space was empty but he could hear voices from the kitchen and he hoped Julia was there. He wanted to tell her about his conversation with his dad, and the surprising calm that he felt after talking to him.

He closed the door behind him and the voices stopped suddenly. Curious, he headed toward the kitchen but slowed to a halt when Josh appeared in the door. His eyes widened slightly when he saw him and he reached out to rest his hand on the doorway. “Hey, Quentin!” he said loudly, grinning at him with far too much excitement considering that he’d only been gone for a few hours. After a moment his smile fell as he supposedly remembered where he’d been. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s fine,” he said, not really wanting to talk about it with Josh. He stepped forward, intending to walk past him into the kitchen. He expected Josh to drop his arm but instead it stiffened, and Quentin realised that he was blocking his way. “Ah, can you let me through?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at him pointedly.

Josh dropped his arm a little so that it was about level with his chest. “No, I cannot,” he said firmly, smiling and obviously pleased with himself.

Furrowing his brow, Quentin looked at him hopelessly. He had maybe a day, maybe just a few hours before the others joined them and the last chapter of the book would reveal itself, and now that he was in a not terrible mood he didn’t want to spend that time dealing with whatever shenanigans that Josh was up to. “I just want to get a glass of water and talk to Julia if she’s in there. I’m not going to disrupt whatever probably drug related baking you’re doing.”

Josh clutched his chest with his free hand. “I am insulted, good sir! Nah, not really,” he said immediately, his grin returning easily. “But there’s no drugs involved this time. I said that was obviously a mistake, but what do I know, right? But seriously, I can’t let you through.”

Was he actually seriously not letting him into the kitchen? Quentin laughed in disbelief. “Why?” He tried to peer past Josh’s shoulder, but the view from the doorway hid most of the kitchen.

“That I can’t tell you.”

Quentin raised his eyebrows. “You say that like you can tell me _some_ stuff, but you haven’t told me anything. Just –“ He cut off at the sound of Julia’s laughter coming from the kitchen, then froze at the unmistakable voice that shushed her. “Eliot?” he called, and the silence in the kitchen was immediate. Why was Eliot here already?

He grabbed Josh’s arm, intent on pulling it out of the way and pushing past him, but Josh’s other hand settled firmly on his shoulder to hold him still. “Dude, I’m serious. He threatened to cut my balls off if I let you in."

So he was in there. Quentin opened his mouth to continue arguing his way in but the words failed on his lips. Eliot was supposed to be in Fillory with Margo. They’d demanded a few days to get a hold of things since Margo had only just been elected and they had to straighten at least a few things out before they left again. The fact that one of those things was resettling the Fairies in order to get their key forced the delay anyway, and a few days in Fillory was likely a day at most on Earth. Unless that time had already passed... but then where was Margo?

Worry knotted his stomach at the thought that maybe something had gone wrong. Why hadn’t Eliot come to him about it? But no, that couldn’t be it – not from Julia’s laughter just a moment ago.

So maybe he just didn’t want to see him.

“Hey,” Josh said softly, and his eyes refocused to see him looking at him seriously. He wondered what his face had done to get a genuine reaction out of one Josh Hoberman. “Look, it’s fine, it’s just… well, I can’t say what it is, but just trust me, okay?” Tilting his head, he smiled reassuringly, overdoing it just a little. “Would I do you wrong?”

Quentin was sure it was supposed to be rhetorical, but the fact that Josh thought that the answer could possibly be ‘no’ was just too much. “Josh, how many times have you fucked me up with something that was supposed to be something else?”

“Okay, aside from that.”

Rolling his eyes, Quentin twisted out of Josh’s grip. “Fine,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. He was insanely curious about whatever Eliot and Julia were doing in the kitchen but one thing was for sure – Josh was great at avoiding conflict but he was a _really_ bad liar, so it was hard to stay concerned for everyone’s wellbeing when he was so relaxed about it. “I might like to see my friends as some point, though, so let them know I’ll be in my room when they can be bothered to see me,” he said, leaning past Josh and raising his voice for the last half of the sentence to make sure that they heard him. He knew that they’d take it as the joke that it was meant to be, but a part of him hoped that they’d feel a twinge of guilt, too. Although most of his worry had faded, he still felt a little bummed at being excluded.

But it was fine. He didn’t have to tell Julia about his dad helping him to be comfortable in his resolve for it to be true, and he was a little surprised at the smile pulling at his lips at that realisation. He was stressed and tired and kind of just really wanted to see his friends – particularly Eliot, who he’d been separated from for far too long. But it also felt good to know what he stood for without needing anyone’s approval.

It kind of felt like knowing who he was, and he didn’t mind dwelling on that feeling while they did whatever was so important in the kitchen.

Nodding to Josh, he was just starting to turn away when he got a whiff of something from the kitchen and he reached out blindly to grab Josh’s arm, his chest swelling as he breathed in deeply. He’d heard somewhere that smell was the sense that was linked most strongly with memory, but he’d never had anything to relate that to until he was breathing in the distinct smell of Fillorian cooking in the middle of the Physical Kid’s cottage at Brakebills. Closing his eyes, he could see Teddy sitting on his mother’s lap while Eliot spooned stew into their bowls. He could see Eliot’s exasperated smile while he waved him out of the way while he was cooking. He could see his granddaughter’s sleeping face as he took her in his arms so that Teddy could have his dinner.

Those memories were never far from his mind, but now they hit him like a ton of bricks. “Quentin?” Josh asked, his voice full of concern but Quentin just shook his head wordlessly, pushing past him and ignoring Josh’s protests. Lurching through the kitchen door, he turned and stopped dead when he saw Eliot.

He was standing in front of the stove with his back to him, humming to himself as he stirred something – _something, like you don’t know what it is_ – in a big pot. He turned around, and Quentin dazedly took in the ‘kiss the chef’ apron that he wore before Eliot’s gasp brought his gaze up to his face. His eyes widening in horror, Eliot threw his arms wide to block the view of the stove. “No! You do _not_ get to be in here right now!”

Quentin stared at him, then glanced around the kitchen. Julia was trying to hide a smile as she leaned back against the fridge. Leftover ingredients were scattered on the counters, and the canvas and cloth packaging was hardly from Earth. He spotted some vegetables that didn’t even exist on Earth. “What are you doing?” he asked slowly.

“A surprise,” Eliot said, jumping forward and grabbing his arms, moving his torso quickly to try and keep it between him and the rest of the kitchen and as much as he normally would have loved to take advantage of that closeness after having so little of it, he wasn’t so easily distracted. Twisting his arms out of Eliot’s grip, he pushed past him and went for the stove. Peering into the pot, he found exactly what he’d expected but he still stared. It was just… it was just stew, right? But it had been _theirs_. “Look, can’t you just pretend that you didn’t see any of this?” Eliot huffed.

Putting the lid back on the pot – that was probably what had contained the smell before, but now it was heavy in the air – he turned back to Eliot to find him standing a lot closer than he’d expected. “What is this?” he asked again, staring up at him intensely. He suddenly felt a deep craving for their old lives, for the intimacy that they’d shared. They’d only had a fraction of that since they’d been hit with the memories from their missing lives, and, just like how things had been back in Fillory, they hadn’t bothered to define how things were now. They’d both had lives to get back to, kingdoms to rule and quests to complete and enemies to vanquish. Unlike in Fillory, it made him feel unsettled, but there had been more important things to worry about than his own insecurities.

Eliot’s lip twitched in a grimace, his brow furrowed, and Quentin wasn’t fooled when after a moment he straightened his face and sighed heavily. He’d long since learned when he was trying to mask the depth of his feelings with flair. “Fine, because you have to ruin everything. I came back a day early – or a few hours, by Earth standards, but whatever. The Fairies are basically all moved in and Margo had to go through some last minute High Kingly type things with Fen before she came over, so I thought I’d make the most of the free time.”

He wanted to ask about how he felt about Margo being crowned High King, but he knew that now wasn’t the right time to press Eliot on feelings that he _definitely_ would have buried deep if there was anything to it. And he still didn’t really understand what was going on. “And this is how you wanted to spend your extra time? Cooking at Brakebills?”

Eliot rolled his eyes. “God, no. Well, kind of, but only in preparation for the surprise that you’re ruining.”

Quentin raised his eyebrows pointedly. “Are you going to tell me or just continue to make me feel like shit about it?”

Eliot smiled at him faintly, and as his face softened Quentin felt his anxiety start to seep out of him before he even started to speak. “It’s our anniversary, Q,” he said simply. “150 years, if you count the time we lived together in Fillory, and then all of the Earth years since then. I wasn’t sure, but Julia helped me work out when Jane was in Fillory when you gave her the key, so… I’m pretty sure. I know with time working differently it’s not totally accurate anyway but it’s the best measure we have so I’m going with it.”

 _150 years._ Quentin stared at him, too surprised to find the right words to say. What could you say to that? That Eliot had even been paying attention to things like that with everything else that they had going on, that he’d bothered to work out exactly how long it had been, timeline discrepancies be damned, completely blew him away. Eliot had done that for him. Maybe things weren’t so ‘back to normal’ as he’d feared. Their moments of casual intimacy had been more frequent, but he hadn’t known where Eliot’s feelings for him stood, not really, but this… Tomorrow they were completing their mission to _bring magic back,_ and Eliot had found time for this.

Quentin gazed up at him in wonder.

Frowning again, Eliot continued talking, his words speeding up. “I thought we’d go out into the woods and have, I don’t know, like a picnic or something, and it would be kind of like... like back home,” he said, looking away. “I know it’s not the same, and it’s also kind of stupid, but you like stupid gestures like that and it would have felt… nice. For it to be like old times.” Eliot looked up hesitantly, and Quentin shook his head in disbelief. He was nervous about getting this right. _For him_. “I know we haven’t really been in the same place at the same time, and we haven’t had time to think let alone figure out what this is now, but it still counts, right? I think it still counts.” His hands fluttered between them before settling firmly by his sides, his expression pained. “Just so you know, I’d really appreciate an idea of how this is going because you’re the one who blurts out his feelings all the time while I stand there judging you and for some reason this is exactly the opposite and I don’t –“

Taking a step forward, Quentin grabbed Eliot’s face in both of his hands and pulled him down, cutting him off with his mouth against his. He didn’t have the words for the emotions that were overwhelming him so he let his body speak for him, pulling Eliot close and kissing him with everything he felt. Eliot responded immediately, one hand sliding through his hair to hold the back of his head while the other slipped around his waist and it felt good, it felt so good just to have him close again. Tilting his head, he felt Eliot’s tongue against his lips and eagerly parted them to deepen the kiss, sinking into him with a sigh when he realised that this was undeniably _home._

He felt the press of something against his lower back and realised vaguely that it must have been the kitchen bench, but he didn’t want to think of anything beyond the man in his arms. His hands moved to his shoulders, roamed down his chest and slid around his back, pulling him against him. He couldn’t quite believe it – Eliot was here, and he wanted him. After all of their years together he shouldn’t have doubted, but that had been another life... but that life still mattered. And this one did, too.

Pulling back a little, Quentin pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I love you,” he said, wishing he’d had the courage to say it earlier. He knew just how much it meant that Eliot had put this much effort into marking their anniversary. Eliot, who – by his own admission – was the one who usually hid his feelings behind a witty remark and a swig from his flask. It had taken Quentin a while to be able to understand the true thoughts behind the sarcasm and nonchalance, but he felt like he had a pretty good read on it now. For Eliot to not only pull a romantic gesture but also to ask Julia for help was no small thing, no matter how much he’d try to downplay it. “This is… this is everything.”

He could feel Eliot’s smile against his temple. “I can’t promise we’ll have all the time in the world after this is done,” he said hesitantly.

“I know.” He was under no illusions – he knew that their lives were complicated, and that wouldn’t all be solved by the return of magic. “You’ll have a kingdom to run with Margo, and I… well, I haven’t really figured out what I’ll be doing. I haven’t really thought about anything past this,” he realised, then shook the thought away – it didn’t matter, not yet. “But… we have right now.” He pulled back to look at him properly and felt himself melt a little at the warmth in Eliot’s eyes as he looked back at him. “And I… we’ll find some time. We’ll make some time, when we can. We’ll make something work.”

He was the one with too many words now but he didn’t care, not with his heart so full of possibility. Eliot grinned at him widely. “Now there’s the rambling nerd we know and love,” he said affectionately. His thumb pressed on the underside of Quentin’s jaw and he tilted his head back, kissing Eliot firmly when his mouth sought his.

“Pay up, Hoberman,” Julia said, and Quentin started a little. He’d forgotten they were there, but he also kind of didn’t really care, not when Eliot’s arms held him so tightly. “I told you he’d love it.”

“But it’s just stew,” Josh whispered loudly.

“No, it’s not,” Quentin said, pulling back and smiling up at Eliot. “It’s home.”


End file.
